ITT: give the opening line, sentence or passage of the book/story you're working on

Ma man has died today. Dat man wuz ma nigga fo so long I t'aint sho how iz goin' tuh suhvive wid out him. Rets in peace ma man.

The wrestler climbed the ropes with bloody head hung low. The crowd rose from their seats in stadium rows and their voices came on like the sea.

That picture of a vomiting goose is an appropriate accompaniment to that verbal diarrhoea spillage of a sentence. I sincerely hope you have not written anything else.

>This was it. This was how he'd die. Not in glory, or some heroic clash against a worthy opponent. No. He was going to die from a broken leg in the middle of nowhere. He'd die slowly and painfully, leaving nothing more than a corpse for some lucky beast to gnaw on. And no one would ever know.

Feel free to let rip.

ITT: write garbage and sensibly chuckle

"The church structure loomed over him, exuding a sense of majesty not unlike the god it represents."

i dont fucking know

l don't know who "he" is. So this dramatic statement of his death doesn't really stir anything; l don't care.
l feel this would deliver more powerfully if you split it in half at the "No." and switched the halves places.

Would've struck me more by "...sense of majesty unlike the god it represents." But that of course switches the meaning around.

>The drums erupted from the docks and ripped across the landscape; the sounds slapping against the stone wall set his ears to ringing, but Tindore's mind went to the three strange galleys that had appeared on the horizon that morning.

The names of those involved have been changed to protect their identity.

Humanity… All of my suffering on this world has been at the hands of humanity, particularly women. It has made me realize just how brutal and twisted humanity is as a species.

has me interested

"
Her senses returned to her in a slow dawn, and in the morning haze of
her consciousness, shadows of thoughts, dreams and memories drifted about,
all equally ephemeral, equally probable or improbable."

>my suffering

>nobody wants to touch my peepee

what a hard life

>Would've struck me more by "...sense of majesty unlike the god it represents." But that of course switches the meaning around.

I agree. The reason it is better is the surprise immediately sets up a tension that allows us to speculate. Does the character share the opinion of the narrator? Did his disdain bring him to the church?

Whereas here
>"The church structure loomed over him, exuding a sense of majesty not unlike the god it represents."
this part
> not unlike the god it represents
is essentially redundant. Religious architecture is supposed to remind you of the divine. Compare the church with something else. Hint at more of the story.

>Leading the way was a black ship, same of sail and oar, followed closely by another. The second shit portrayed a life of decadence with a green hull and bone white oars and sails. The two ships together had no common marking save the distance between them; this is what made the third so strange.
>The last was huge, at least twice the size of the others with a deep red hull. On both sides double decks of oars man with orange and yellow alternating oars made the ship seem to burn upon the sea. But only one thing frightend him about it. The height of the temple allowed him to see a thick red trail behind,a trail that led deep to the eastern sea

" 'The elite of this country use the blood of the innocent in their expensive lotion and perfumes.' The cafe was empty, so no nobody saw when I slapped Juan across the face."

My ass is ready Anons.

*lotions

"Clouds in the sky, heavy and grey and forbidding the sun, began to spill in frenzy about the campus, shattering and streaking one after another on each classroom window."

This is my opener.

I was kind of curious OP. It's not bad at all.

>The second shit. The first shit was the first sentence T B H. Just kidding pal. Some of the description seems try hard in its current state but it flows well.

I am not OP, but thanks either way senpai.
Pic related somewhat.

it sounds like the voice over in a porno movie.

>waking up to start a story
user...

Thank you dude, I try to write well but I usually just try too hard to make the reader swe what I see I guess.

I'd cut out the first four or five sentences.

I'm intrigued, what's this story about?

is it? never heard that.
dope. would continue.
nope not down
probably wouldn't. And I read "Da Great Gatsby"
you have earned another page or two of attention, but that simile better not be the norm.
YA could get away with this maybe. but you should try cutting it down to what you're actually saying. i'd start with the "broken leg" sentence and cut "he'd die slowly and painfully"
please never do the "not un" thing ever again. also "church structure" is redundant. also delete "a sense of". "The church loomed over him like a god in its own right" would be better, since churches symbolizing god is often the point. also this is a first sentence. Use a name, not a pronoun.
the "stone wall" disrupts the flow since I'm wondering where/what the stone wall is. Sea wall? further down "the landscape"? some building?
cut "humanity..." and basically every time you've ever used the word "just." it's a filler word, like "actually"
nahhhh takes too long to say what it says
is this two intros (in which case first has potential, second has slightly less) or one (in which case is this something Juan says or what?)
the clouds spilled in frenzy? the clouds shattered? the clouds streaked? verb choice seems more based on sound and feel than meaning. Not horribad, but it reflects a trend in modern literature that I hate. if you're an MFA student, though, keep going. They'll eat that shit up, probably.

forgot this one. "portrayed a life of" should be changed to one word like "embodied", distance is not a marking, and the description of the oars is awkward (maybe "...double rows of alternating orange and yellow oars made the ship...") but damn if i'm not intrigued. improve the sentences and live up to the promise of these lines, and you have a book i'd totally read

in medias res scene > narrator/protag prattling on > exposition dump

This paper will discuss the four weeks I spent with in the Hiroshimite(1) Commune, Significant Scholarship has already been dedicated to the Mutilants(2) of the clan, so this peculiar sect will be mentioned only in passing.

(Footnotes)
1 It should be mentioned they do not call themselves Hiroshimites, they refuse all names and labels, but the colloquialism will be used for the reader's convenience.
2. See Footnote 1.

Juan does say the quote. It is all part of one intro.

Should I be doing something else right now? Generations refrain. Words, stolen from a friend, help paint a bigger picture. Words stolen from a friend; help, paint a bigger picture. Grand. As far as the eye can see. Stretching across boundless lands and space and more importantly time: true art is universal. What about galaxies?

okay. but this is why in general it's considered best to avoid starting with a quote. even something simple/stupid like "Juan set his coffee down and looked at me intensely. 'The elite...'" etc would ground me a little more and provide context, a speaker... that way I don't have to retroactively assign a voice and tone to it.

drivel

Do the monkey with me.

How bout

Should I be doing something else right now? A generation's refrain. Ageneration. A friend would focus on the self - ironic? Apparently our posts feeds memes really just point to me, me. Me. No face. Book. Books. Not yet booked, luckily.

Do you have the Schizophrenia? If not, try to write a book that's not word salad.

my main question is: what is this piece and what are you trying to do with it?

so far it just looks like idle wordplay. no story, just relatively basic statements about our current times. i think this could work as a spoken-word performance piece, but even there it should eventually say something that matters. Something concrete. obviously this doesn't always happen in the first few sentences, though, which is why i ask what this is and what it's about.

if these are song lyrics, you should head to /mu/. if this is a book, i really need more context. second-person narration is tricky, and the "me" is completely undefined. plus not sure if you mean the literal dance move or if this is a metaphor for something you haven't established yet.

Thanks senpai. I appreciate it.

np senpai

A religious tale starring Metatron and the archangels, dealing with a God who has seemingly turned senile. It's fantasy action with a culturally clueless Metatron returning to earth for his adventures as a human once again, with a whodunnit mystery in the background, created by Asimov-like rules for the angels and how one of them is malevolent despite his divinity. It's not Satan or any of the already fallen angels because that'd be unoriginal as fuck.

>Rigor mortis had introduced itself to her muscles and Charlie could feel her porcelain ass grow harder and harder around his throbbing cock. This was now the fourth time in under an hour Charlie could feel his balls drain as he deposited another load into the sad abyss through the back door of a vacant vessel.

would read

DO IT NOW.

Some pretty thoughtful analysis coming from this guy

I thought this was funny. Reminds me of how Lemony Snicket started his books.

Phuc Stevenson was a postman in Mansfield, a suburb of Dallas. Understand now that postman is a joke, a play on “post-man,” implying either that Phuc somehow transcends humanity or that he’s the quintessence of postmodernity. Whatever it means, he definitely has nothing to do with the mail [commentary on privatization of postal service in America and neoconservatism because such commentaries are too unabashedly earnest for someone too young to remember 9/11 to make] or stamps or Thomas Pynchon. Phuc decided last month while snapchatting underage girls dick pics under the alias Dylan (he thought to use Phil because of his name or Fred because of phonetics but those are some pedo as fuck names (I guess 16 isn’t even pedo it’s more ephebo and half of Europe is cool with it (not that non-Euro countries can’t be good examples of reasonable sex policies, not being ethnocentric (no fuck that Thailand has no business being like that (reverse privilege Phuc is Asian (no shit, his name is Phuc) so I can say that (though I (the defictionalized author) am only half so I/he can write/think that))))) that the whole affectation/sincerity thing dominating the arts is stupid since the opposite of affectation would more accurately be isolation, as affectation is inherent to socialization, or perhaps even suicide, as it’s sort of inherent to existence (unless you’re retarded or senile or David Foster Wallace (scratch that last one he killed himself (as you know :^) hehelololkekekeakguaholmjrgimt); I think I’m/he’s on to something)). As problematic (this is only half-ironic because on the one hand fuck university liberals (university being a modifier (the non-tenured variety are fine (privilege check: of course I think that I am one))) but foregoing fitting diction to avoid tumblr liberal (there are so many varieties (latte leftist, limousine liberal and microblog (cultural) Marxist (which is really just tumblr liberal with more Joyce points) round out the alliterative subset)) connotations is insincere as hell (irony of using affected po-mo down-to-earth colloquialisms (“…as hell”) when chastising insincerity noted)) as affectation as a concept is, sincerity is even more so, as Phuc realized fourteen pages into his Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic he jokingly wrote, because with intention (fuck you determinists I’m not going eight parentheticals deep to temper that term) comes an inherent sincerity.

>"But most of all, I'm doing it because Subway no longer offers five-dollar foot-longs," David wrote, adding the final touches to his suicide note.

made me laugh

ty

Do it again m8

so are you trying to be utterly pointless? Or did it happen by accident?

>Douglas Adams face

No, worse. This is Lemony Snickett tier

Read a little closer mate. You'll see the brilliance.

Can you actually fucking write a story around this, please? I am fucking laughing so hard.

interesting start but outside of pratchett (and sometimes even then) im skeptical of footnotes.
depends on if this continues to be shock porn or if it actually explores an interesting character
see

I somehow see some type of weird flow, you may be considered a genius one day only after you die of course
Well not terrible. The "sad abyss" part dosent really fit. Other than that not down for necro
"Underage girls dick pics under the alias Dylan" this is where I stop reading user
Actually seems pretty funny mang, go for it

You wouldn't consider a dead girl's asshole a sad abyss?

>this is where I stop reading user
what's wrong with the line?

Sounds good, OP. I liked it. Don't mind the haters.

>FIVE years now, he thought, as he scribbled nervously in his personal journal what he saw and heard for the inumerable time in Hoxton House, private asylum.

going for that barry lyndon time setting, rip and tear

I would pay you to write this book user, we need it.

I wondered why I wasn't crying.

It works nice as stone walls do the same irl

lol

"Kierkegaard", the voice says. No, not that. Click button.
"Kendrick." Groan. Click. You sip your tea and frown in the way only a man who's trying to frown can. Forty-seven names to go.

"I wish I could kill myself"

...

It's basically To Kill A Mockingbird.

He's not even ugly. I would've fucked the shit out of him.

He was simply creepy. Probably autistic.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall" Akihiro murmured under his breath, as he was wiping his katana blade from the blood of the unfortunate punk who dared to cross his path thirty seconds ago.

You should graduate from adderall and go straight for meth, it'll be great.

The walls had been melting for hours.

really, the first thing is waking up as an exposition?

this book is gonna be shit, i know it

It rained on the day that they finally got around to burning Vicar Arden's old bones. Delly stayed dry.

I love to eat shit, but not because I'm told to by some irate person.

Early Chitwood was cold. He had been cold all night, and the fact his condition had endured into the early morning only deepened his discomfort and irritation. He shifted himself in his overlarge saddle and looked up. He watched the shining beams of morning sunlight trying, and pitifully failing, to break through the thick grey cloud bank that filled the Texas sky.

Wow totally random!!! XD *holds up spork* he's a bug lmao!!!

Give up, you'll never be a writer.

i fucked this up, should read

Early Chitwood was cold. He had been cold all night, and the fact his condition had endured into the early morning only deepened his discomfort and irritation. He shifted himself in his overlarge saddle and looked up and watched the shining beams of morning sunlight trying, and pitifully failing, to break through the thick grey cloud bank that filled the Texas sky

too sincere for me

I think this one has been underrated. I like it. Whether it's sci-fi or something else, it's pretty neat.

I REMEMBER YOU WAS CONFLICTED

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

Dickens pls

this sounds like something Cormac McCarthy would write. Except well-written. Would keep reading/10

This is really good. Even if you ignore the gimmicky structure.

fucking lol'd

Don't ever publish your work and have it destroyed after you die.

Are you folks trolls or have you really not read kafka?

unironically great job, though the first half is better than the second. up until after the DFW part.

It was night, for it was always night. With grim darkness pervading every iota of the night sky, Archibald Flabberghast pulled out his Ectophiliam. There were apparitions abounding, on this the most darkest of nights. He tipped his blackened stovepipe hat to the lady walking towards him, and gently uttered "M'lady." She nodded back, and smiled. Innocence should always be preserved.
The townage of Blackenmoor Darq had seen a great increase in ghostly phenomenae lately, no doubt the result of the negative emotions that obscured the very soul of the place itself.

>thatsthejoke.jpeg

I sincerely hope this is the highest form of irony.